They crested a rise, and there it was, in the hollow between rolling hills—a low, square building, ghostly gray in the moonlight. "Is that it?" asked Hamilton. "It probably isn't the local opera house," groaned Ian.
Gordon KormanDan was suspicious. "How did he find out where we were staying?" Amy frowned. "I think that's the message inside the message. He wants us to know that he has a long reach–that's he's rich and powerful." "Like we'll see his giant mansion and assume he works at Burger King," scoffed Dan.
Gordon KormanA bronze plaque read: GAIUS PLINIUS CAECILIUS SECUNDUS Dan made a face. "Get a load of the guy with the funny name." "I think that's Pliny the younger, the famous Roman writer," Amy supplied. She bent down to read the English portion of the tablet. "Right. In A.D. 79, Pliny chronicled the destruction of Pompeii by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. It's one of the earliest eyewitness accounts of a major disaster." Dan yawned. "Doesn't this remind you of the clue hunt? You know–you telling me a bunch of boring stuff, and me not listening?
Gordon KormanWe didn't stow away!" Dan protested. "You sunk our boat and pulled us out of the canal!" "Good point," Ian agreed. "Return them to the canal. Roughly, please.
Gordon KormanWonderful. What's the point of throwing a hissy fit without friends and family on hand to hear it?" -Amy Cahill
Gordon KormanDan moved forward and replaced Jonah at the helm. "I've got a plan!" "That's my man!" The famous grin disappeared as Jonah took in the grim determination in Dan's features. His expression was as flat and expressionless as a naked skull. Dan steered the hurtling boat directly toward the rocky shore. "Amy, hang onto that painting!" "That's not a plan!" Jonah shouted. "That's suicide!
Gordon Korman